The Benefit of Cigarettes?
by llHero
Summary: In which Wilson surprisingly finds an unexpected benefit to smoking.It doesn't say it outright until later on in the fic, but it's WilsonHouse slash


Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

The Benefit of Cigarettes?

He sat alone in the blackness of the night. Toxic smoke entered his lungs. His hand dropped to his side pulling the cigarette from his lips. Sighing, he watched the smoke escape his mouth and float up into the moonless night. He'd swiped the pack from a patient who had come in two days earlier. He, the doctor, had diagnosed the man with lung cancer. And now he was sitting puffing on the cause of the man's condition. It seemed like a good idea, no, a good escape, at the time he'd taken them.

He flicked the butt into the road and ran a now cigarette-less hand through his hair. He pulled out the lighter that had been conveniently tucked into the pack of Marlboro Red Hundreds, which was now inviting him to take another. He stared at the red and white box that was taunting him before popping another in his mouth. The stale smell of burning nicotine glued itself onto his skin and clothing as he sat in his cloud of pollution.

He flicked the lighter, sparking flames, and watched the light dance in contrast to the black around him. He tried not to let his mind wander. He thought about the stench of the smoke. He thought about the hurt he was inflicting his body with every inhalation. He thought about the ashes that blew, spiraling with the wind every time he flicked his thumb over the end of the filter. He sat concentrating on the actions of smoking only to keep his mind off the actions of the night before.

He stared out into the nothing before him trying to block out the events that had been engraved in his mind. He wished he'd never done it, took another drag, and then decided he didn't wish he hadn't. He wished his friend had acted differently, took another drag, and then decided he really wasn't sure what he wished.

This chain smoking wasn't helping. He buried his head in his hands and sat hunched over on the steps of his friend's apartment building. He'd come over to apologize, at least that's what he'd told himself. But he wasn't really going to do anything, he was just going to sit here; he didn't dare face his friend now. He wasn't entirely certain why he'd come; maybe it was to be closer to the thing he'd just so stupidly lost in a moment of want and desire.

He remembered how he'd passionately slammed his lips against his friend's. He remembered feeling the other stiffen beneath his touch the second they came into such personal contact. He'd ignored the fact his friend had quite obviously not wanted to be pinned to the wall by another man. He remembered running his hands down his friend's back and grabbing the waist band of his sweat pants, pulling him closer, grinding their bodies together. He remembered getting a firm push against his chest and stumbling backward, landing on his ass in the middle of his friend's living room floor.

He'd stuttered he was sorry the second he'd looked up and seen his friend staring back down at him with that unreadable look on his face he could pull off so well. He'd looked down at the floor when he couldn't stand to look at his friend any longer. He mumbled an "I love you", that he'd been reserving for his friend for as long as he could remember, to the carpeting beneath him. He sat watching as his friend's hand came into his range of sight, which was very limited at the moment, consisting of the floor and the bottom of the couch.

The hand grabbed a cane that had been recently thrown aside during their encounter. His gaze followed the cane up as his friend lifted it until he was again staring at the man he'd just violated. The cane was then pointed to the door. And he cringed when he heard the word "go."

He flicked the cigarette butt violently into the street, trying to dismiss these memories. The doorknob behind him squeaked, startling him out of his deep thinking. His body involuntarily turned itself around to look behind it.

The door swung open revealing the vary man that had consumed his thoughts for the last 24 hours. He'd begun to get up to leave expecting to hear some sort of sarcastic remark regarding his manhood, when, unexpectedly, his friend slowly eased himself down next to him on the cold steps. He felt an arm sling itself around his shoulder and give it a squeeze. He stared at the man beside him with pleading eyes, searching forgiveness.

"I'm not going to forgive you."

He was sure the hurt shone through in his expression. But he was also slightly taken aback, why was he sitting with him like this then?

"House, I…"

"Shut-up."

He didn't end up having time to "shut-up." His friend's hand moved away from his shoulder and settled itself on the back of his head, tangling it's fingers in his hair. He was roughly pulled forward and surprised to find himself being passionately kissed, being kissed the same way he had been kissing his friend last night. Being kissed by the person he'd been longing to be kissed by for so long.

It was over all too fast and he stared back in disbelief at the figure whose fingers were still playing with his hair, twirling the strands gently. He couldn't read the expression that was displayed in front of him, try as he might while he searched the face with confused eyes. He didn't have long to evaluate the situation. His friend abruptly stood and began to walk towards the front door, only glancing back for a split second at a now flabbergasted man on his front steps.

"You smell gross, come inside and take a shower."

With that his friend disappeared into the building and before following he silently thanked his cancer patients cigarettes and their odious ways before tossing them aside.

R&R... give me some feedback people.


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